


We're Not Friends

by LobsterLobster



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din and Mayfeld friendship, Gen, Officer Brown Eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LobsterLobster/pseuds/LobsterLobster
Summary: Migs Mayfeld has never been great at making friends. Din Djarin is less than thrilled about his new nickname. Bo-Katan makes a cameo!
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	We're Not Friends

**Author's Note:**

> I never expected to write a Mayfeld and Din friendship fic, but I was really amused by this idea, so here you go! Enjoy!

Mayfeld is having a very bad day.

He ran through the jungle, a full squad of stormtroopers only seconds behind, dodging around trees. The guy beside him took a blast to the shoulder and fell. Mayfeld kept running. One of the guys ahead of him got hit and went down. They had to be close to the ship.

Then three more of the men ahead of him were cut down from blaster fire coming from the left. Mayfeld ducked, stopping short before he was in the line of fire as well. He looked around desperately, changed direction, slid down a short hill and kept running, but he didn’t get far. The undergrowth was too thick. The sound of blaster fire was coming from all directions now. He took cover behind a fallen tree.

A blast hit the brush behind him. Mayfeld took a deep breath, aware that it might very well be his last, raised his rifle over the log and let off a few shots. He couldn’t see the enemy so didn’t think he’d hit anything. They were wearing jungle camo, not the usual white armor. He ducked again, watched another blast pass right where his head had been. Counted to three and rose up to shoot again.

This time he was sure he hit one, but he saw more running through the trees. He had decided to try and crawl to a better spot when a loud deep rumble shook the air. He looked up and sure enough, that was the ship taking off. So a few of the others had made it. And left him behind. Typical.

Then came the distinctive high-pitched whine of TIE fighters, the sound of distant blaster cannons and, only a few seconds later, a massive explosion.

There was nothing to do but to go out fighting. In the back of his mind, Mayfeld had always expected it to come to this. He gritted his teeth and checked the power levels on his rifle, got his feet under him to stand up.

A loud BOOM echoed through the jungle, followed by several more in rapid succession. Thermal detonators. And a new flurry of blaster fire, which sounded like it was coming from the direction of the base and quickly getting closer. Sure enough, when Mayfeld stood up, he could see about half a dozen stormtroopers pausing and changing direction to head back that way, apparently forgetting about him.

He smiled, took aim, and dropped three before he heard a shout, “Stop right there!” followed by, “Drop your weapon!”

Mayfeld grimaced. He turned, only to see two more stormtroopers standing a few paces away, guns trained on him. He tightened his grip, felt the but of his rifle secure against his shoulder. If he was fast, he might get one but not two. There was no chance.

In the space of a blink, the first stormtrooper’s helmet shattered and he fell, followed a second later by the other one, stumbling back with a circular hole burnt though his chest.

There was a whooshing sound from above and then a figure landed beside Mayfeld, silver glinting, barely pausing before striding forward and shooting another trooper who appeared from behind a tree.

Then it was quiet, aside from the dying moans of an unfortunate stormtrooper and the distant sound of blaster fire, which was slowing down.

The silver beskar was unmistakable. Mayfeld laughed out loud.

“Well, if it isn’t Officer Brown Eyes!” Mayfeld grinned, “I never thought I would be happy to see you!”

A woman with red hair and wearing some sort of blue armor, her helmet in her hand, walked up. Mayfeld hadn’t heard her approach. His ears were still ringing a bit from the firefight. She looked between Mando and Mayfeld, eyebrows raised.

“What did he call you?” she asked, directed toward Mando, who said nothing, only turned his head to stare at Mayfeld, his stance clearly tense.

Mayfeld’s smile immediately dropped from his face. Oh, this was not his day.

The woman was looking at him now.

“What?” Mayfeld blinked, cocked his head.

“I see you two know each other. What did you call him just now? Officer _Brown Eyes_?” she asked. Now that he got a good look, Mayfeld could see it was definitely Mandalorian armor, painted blue.

Mayfeld glanced nervously at Mando. “No, no, no. I said ‘Mando, my friend! I sure am happy to see you!’ That’s what I said. See, Mando and I go way back. This one time, we-”

She cut him off, “No, I heard you say ‘Brown Eyes’. You’ve seen his face.”

Mayfeld narrowed his eyes at her, “Look, lady, if there’s something wrong with your hearing, that’s your problem. And who are you supposed to be anyway?”

“I am Bo-Katan of Clan Kyrze,” she said, with a confidence that made it clear she was someone important. Mayfeld knew the type. This time he cut her off before she could say more.

“Are you even a real Mandalorian?” he scoffed, looking pointedly between her helmet and her face, “Where did you get that armor?”

Now she was thoroughly annoyed. She took a step towards Mayfeld, saying, “This armor has been in my family for three generations! I was born on Mandalore and fought in the Purge!”

She looked like she was ready to punch Mayfeld if he said one more thing. Wonderful. But he was sure that Mando could take her. Mayfeld looked around, belatedly realizing that Mando had turned and walked off.

Now Bo-Katan was demanding who he was and what he was doing there, but Mayfeld ignored her. He hurried after Mando. The man was walking quickly.

“Mando!” he called, running to catch up, “Hey! Buddy! Wait up!”

Mando stopped in his tracks, spun to face him. Mayfeld flinched a little.

“I’m _not_ your friend,” Mando said gruffly. Yep, that was the guy Mayfeld was familiar with, not the lost and disoriented guy from the Imperial mess hall on Morak.

“No? I thought we really bonded last time, blowing up all those Imperials together,” Mayfeld said, but even without seeing his face he could tell that Brown Eyes was losing patience. He sighed. “Look. I’m sorry about that,” he waved a hand in the direction of Bo-Katan, who was poking through the dead stormtroopers now with two more people also in Mandalorian armor. “Really. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I know,” Brown Eyes said, and his voice sounded resigned, rather than angry. Which should have been a relief, but only made Mayfeld feel a little guilty. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Mayfeld explained, trying to keep the story concise, “The only way off Morak was with this pirate crew. They said I had to do a few jobs for them, to pay for my passage. I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Somebody heard about a couple Imperial remnants sitting on a haul of top secret tech, fancy new weapons or something, out here in the middle of nowhere. Whole thing turned out to be a setup. Barely landed and there was practically a whole battalion waiting for us. No loot anywhere.”

As Mayfeld was speaking, a thought occurred to him. “But now I’m thinking maybe the trap wasn’t meant for a couple low life pirates. Maybe it was meant for you people. And by you people I mean Mandalorians. Because apparently there’s more of you now.” He stopped talking, belatedly aware that he was walking on thin ice, yet again.

He glanced over to where the others were. “Are those ones even real Mandalorians?”

“They say they are.” Mayfeld waited but Brown Eyes didn’t expand on that, or comment on his theory about the trap either.

After a moment, Brown Eyes said, “I take it you need a ride.”

Mayfeld smiled hesitantly, nodded.

“I’ll give you a lift if you agree to help us on the next job,” he said. Mayfeld should have seen that coming. But he did owe the guy for saving him back there.

Mayfeld sighed, “I might as well join the Rebellion at this rate. Or the New Republic. Whatever. Hell, maybe I’ll join the Mandalorians. Huh, Brown Eyes, you think they’ll take me?”

“Don’t call me that,” Mando said, a dangerous edge in his voice.

“Right. Sorry. I’m done talking.”

…………………….

The End!


End file.
